OK, I won’t insist.
“My dad is nothing like the man you described,” I say. “However, some women don’t need to be victimized to act like victims. Patriarchy is upheld by women who choose to pander to men, even when they don’t have to.”
Jonas’s attentive gaze settles on me again.
“Let me give you a concrete example,” I say. “My younger sister Doreen, the Caroline Bingley of our time.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Aha?”
“She’s a high achiever, a career woman who makes a lot more than I do,” I explain. “And yet she never misses an opportunity to ingratiate herself with Dad or with other men in positions of power.”
Jonas’s eyes glint with mischief. “Whereas you, Margot Nolan, would rather self-combust than do anything that might look like you’re ingratiating yourself with a man.”
You think you’re funny?
Well, he is, a little bit, but I’m not going to smile and give him the satisfaction of acknowledging that fact.
I hold his eyes. “You think you know me, huh?”
“I do.” He scoots close enough to rasp in my ear, “But you can prove me wrong right away.”
“How?”
“Go ahead and ingratiate yourself to me.”
We stare at each other.
My voice suddenly coarse, I ask, “Just out of curiosity, how would you suggest I do that?”
“You could, for example…” His gaze never leaving mine; he touches the back of his hand to my cheek and slides it down to my chin, in a slow, unbearably sensual way that makes my breath catch in my throat.
“For example, what?” I manage.
His fingers trace the outline of my cheek and jaw. He pulls away just enough to get a better look at me. The intensity of his gaze wreaks havoc on me, making my heart dance a furious quadrille in my chest.
He leans in, his lips hovering just above mine. “For example… You could kiss me.”
Who needs a fire in the grate when the air between us sizzles with sexual tension? My heart is pounding harder still. I’m acutely aware of his breath on my cheek. The intoxicating smell of his cologne fills my nostrils. It grounds me in the moment, making the world around the settee fade away.
Jonas’s hand tightens around the nape of my neck, and he pulls me closer. The air between us is warm with the heat radiating from him. It’s electrified, thick with his want.And with mine.
Our noses brush ever so slightly. He strokes my nape, before bringing his big hand to the side of my face with his palm to my skin. My eyelids flutter down with the pleasure of that small caress.
His lips are close, so very close!There’s nothing I want more than to feel them on mine. But… what if this is a trap? What if the instant I kiss him, thus sealing his victory and my unconditional capitulation, he pulls away and laughs? What if he’s doing this just to prove a point?
If only he’d take away my dilemma and kiss me himself!
Instead, he brushes his thumb against my bottom lip. I tremble with anticipation. Jonas slides his other hand over my shoulders and down my back, leaving trails of heat in its wake. His fingers clasp my waist and pull me closer until my breasts press against his chest. I gasp.
He almost has me where he wants me. Another tiny caress, one more whiff of his scent, a tighter grip of his hand on my waist—and he won’t have to nudge me by initiating the kiss. I’ll do it. I’ll prove his point by ingratiating myself to him. I’ll give up my principles and become just like Doreen and Mom—a servile pleaser of men.
“No,” I breathe out.
He stops at once.
“I won’t kiss you,” I say, my heart drumming against my ribs. “And don’t expect me to sleep with you because you saved me from some unpleasantness this afternoon.”
His hands fall limply at his sides.
